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and good fighters., and we aspired to be like them.
We never allowed our old people to want for any-
thing., and whenever any one of them would stop
as he made his silent, dignified way through the
camp, and put his arm across our shoulders and
utter a little prayer for us to the Great Spirit, we
would feel highly honoured. We would stand
quietly^ and when he was through we would
remain in our tracks, respectful and silent,, until
he had disappeared. We looked upon our old
people as demigods of a kind3 and we loved them
deeply; they were all our fathers.

This respect for the aged was so deeply bred
into us that to this day I have not the courage to
dispute the word of an old person. To me old
people still are demigods to be heeded and rever-
enced at all times.

Each morning at sunrise every boy and young
man in the camp would race to be the first up and
into the river for the morning plungeŚwe always
camped near a river for our water supply. The
boy or young brave who most often attained the
distinction of being the first up and outside,, just
as the sun peeped over the eastern horizon, was
the model man of the camp.

Any youngster who chose to follow his own
inclinations, or loved his bed too much., was
relegated to the position of an *also ran*. His
name was never allowed to be called out in public.